


not just lucky cereal

by independentalto



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:15:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23315242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/independentalto/pseuds/independentalto
Summary: In her quest to find the last Lucky Charm marshmallow that'll win her a tropical vacation, Daisy sends Bobbi on a late-night run to the supermarket to secure what she's sure is the last box she'll need. A simple in and out job, right? Wrong.Instead, she ends up in a staring match with a handsome stranger. It's really too bad he's also after the last box of Lucky Charms.A supermarket meet-cute AU.
Relationships: Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse, Lincoln Campbell/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	not just lucky cereal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClementineWhy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClementineWhy/gifts).



“Bobbi, if you don’t do this, the consequences could be  _ catastrophic _ ,” 

“Dais, I really don’t think --”

“Innocent people’s lives are gonna be at stake. Do you  _ really  _ want that on your conscience when you’re applying to law school?” 

“She’s right, you know,” Jemma chimed in from the other end of the kitchen. “If you don’t do this, a lot of people are going to get hurt.” 

Bobbi fixed the smaller woman with a disbelieving glare from her end of the dining table, and with a squeak, Jemma went back to scrubbing at the night’s dishes. “When you say a lot of people, Dais, d’you really just mean me, Jem, and Lincoln for the next three weeks if I don’t get you a box of Lucky Charms?”

Daisy just sighed, crossing her arms from the other end of the table. “But it’s  _ not  _ just a box of Lucky Charms!” she whined. “I told you, I’m trying to collect all of the limited edition charms so Linc and I can win that trip to Aruba. You  _ know  _ this. I’m one charm away!” 

“And no thanks to  _ who _ ?” If Bobbi saw another piece of cereal or even caught  _ whiff  _ of a marshmallow sometime within the next ten years, it would be too soon. “Do you know how many boxes of Lucky Charms we’ve bought in the last three weeks?” 

“Fifteen,” Jemma chimed in helpfully over the roar of the kitchen faucet. “Not including the four Jaiying dropped off when she came to visit.” 

“Okay, in my defense, five of those boxes went to my project.” Daisy grandly swept an arm to a corner of their threadbare dining room, where a large posterboard with Lucky Charms glued to its surface sat despondently. “I don’t know why Professor Coulson asked us to mimic stock market trends with the actual product, but he failed me when I said I couldn’t do the dairy industry analysis because I was lactose intolerant, so I had to go all out.” 

Bobbi sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. They  _ really  _ didn’t have the budget to go out and keep buying boxes of cereal -- at the rate they were going, they were going to be eating Lucky Charms until Jemma had finished her third PhD and she’d passed the bar. Neither of which they’d started working towards. “That leaves fourteen boxes, Daisy.  _ Fourteen  _ boxes of  _ bulk  _ Lucky Charms because  _ someone  _ insisted they had to go to Costco.  _ Fourteen. _ ”

“Yeah, and I’ve  _ been  _ through all fourteen,” Daisy insisted. “None of them have the last marshmallow charm I’m looking for!” When Bobbi just sighed again, the brunette made her way around the table to aim her puppy eyes full force. “Please, Bobbi. One more box. I’ll pay for it myself.” 

Another sigh. Then, Bobbi held up a stubborn finger. “One, Dais.” Immediately, Daisy began nodding like a bobble puppet. “One box. Not ‘oh, but Bobbi, it’s a mini box, it doesn’t count!’ or ‘but it’s a free sample!’.  _ One _ .” 

“One box, and then we don’t have to get them again as long as we live together,” Daisy promised, shoving a five into her hand before gathering her in a hug. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Bobbi watched confusedly as her friend then danced across the living room to her room, shutting the door while humming ‘Get Lucky’ to herself. 

With a sigh, Jemma plonked the last dish into the drying rack with a ‘clink’. “If Daisy gave you the money, why couldn’t she just get the box herself?” 

“Business majors,” Bobbi joked, getting to her feet and retrieving her jacket from the coat closet. “I’ll be back. Anything you want from the store?” 

“Decaf coffee beans,” Jemma said darkly, and Bobbi just laughed as she grabbed her keys and slipped on her shoes. “See how Daisy likes functioning at 7AM  _ then _ . Maybe make her think twice about those Lucky Charms.”

* * *

It was only when Bobbi pulled into an empty parking lot at their local Stop & Shop that she realized how late it was -- late enough that even the pregamers had already made their en masse visits to the liquor store. Sighing, she stepped out of her car into the chilling, inky night, trodding towards the ever-lit sign as if she was resigned to her fate. 

Which, in a way, she was. And it was having to buy her overexcitable roommate another box of Lucky Charms. Which meant she was resigning herself to at least another three weeks of the sugary cereal. So help her, if this one didn’t have the marshmallow Daisy had been after for the last almost-month, she was going to take a leaf out of Jemma’s book and replace all of their K-cups with decaf. 

Hell, she was already here. She might as well. 

“So late, Morse?” wafted the manager’s voice. The three girls had come to know Abe quite well as a result of their first week living in an apartment together -- Daisy, wholly unfamiliar with the idea of meal prep, had made several appearances at Stop & Shop where she would buy her next day’s ingredients the night before. “What’s got you coming in at the nick of closing time?” 

“Daisy,” Bobbi tossed back, and Abe nodded sagely. “She’s after the last box of Lucky Charms,” 

“I’d get on it, then,” Abe advised her. “Somebody’s been coming in and buying those boxes on the hour. I think we’re down to our last few.” Just what Bobbi needed to hear -- the slim chance that she’d be coming home empty-handed. The decaf K-cups were going to have to wait. 

Turning into the cereal aisle, Bobbi discovered that, for once, Abe hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said that the supermarket was down to its last few boxes. Practically the whole shelf had been cleared out, the harsh rectangular shapes of the Capt’n Crunch and Fruity Pebbles boxes creating a clear outline of space in the dimming supermarket lights. But sitting tucked away in the back of the middle shelf, lo and behold --

“Holy shit, the last box,” When she thought about the incident later on, Bobbi would liken the next thirty seconds to an apocalyptic movie, where as the lone survivor, she’d found the last case of water tucked away in an abandoned supermarket. 

But of course, in an apocalyptic movie, there was always another survivor. And their hands (in this case, one lone hand) simply had to close around opposite sides of the box at the exact same time. 

“What are you doing?” Bobbi wasn’t aware that anyone else had been in the store -- let alone in the cereal aisle. What was more concerning was that she hadn’t noticed anyone behind her, so wrapped up in her relief had she been. “I need this box.” 

“Yeah, and so do I,” Confused, Bobbi squinted at the voice and its owner. A scruffily-shaven man mirrored her disbelieving gaze, two dark hazelnut orbs side-eyeing her when she didn’t immediately give up the box. “Question is what are  _ you  _ doing, love?” 

Belatedly, a faint voice in the back of Bobbi’s head noted that the accent coming out of her worst enemy’s mouth was British -- an accent that, in past years, had led her to harbor her deep-kept secret crush on Benedict Cumberbatch. (Jemma would never let her hear the end of it if she was found out.)  _ Well.  _ This was either going to end fabulously or with the cops called. 

“You still in there?” the man in question asked, and Bobbi jolted back to the present, realizing both of them were still clutching the box to the point where the sides were starting to crease. “Can you let go of the box? I kind of need it and it’s getting late.” 

“No can do,” Maybe she’d start off polite. It tended her to get her a lot more favors. “I need this box, too. My roommate’s going to lose her shit if I don’t get it for her.” 

“Well, is there any other cereal she can have?” he asked. “One of my best mates is trying to find the last marshmallow in the lucky set; she’s trying to get the trip to Aruba. And she really deserves it, so if you could just do me a favor and let go of the box. ‘M sure Abe will have more for you in the morning.” 

Oh, so it was like  _ that _ . “I don’t see why you can’t wait until morning,” she pointed out. “And not to be nitpicky or anything, I was sort of here first. Kinda means I’m entitled to the box. You know, first come, first served.” A smirk. “I’m sure Abe can get  _ you _ a fresh box in the morning, no sweat. And your best friend’s not the only one trying to win the trip. My roommate might be an ass, but she’s seen some shit. She deserves it, too.” 

The man frowned. “Then it seems we’re at an impasse.” He didn’t look too disappointed about it, though, and almost seemed...intrigued? At the idea of being in a standoff with her for who knew how long? “Suppose we should get to know each other, then.” 

Bobbi narrowed her eyes at him before sticking her free hand out for him to shake. Good thing she’d watched that YouTube video on shaking hands ambidextrously. “Bobbi Morse. BU pre-law.” 

“Hunter. Northeastern management.” 

“Hunter your first name or last name?”

“You gonna give me the box?” 

“Funny.” 

“This is fun and all, but...” Still clutching the box, Bobbi and Hunter contorted to see Abe shining a flashlight at them and pointedly tapping at his watch. “We close in fifteen minutes. At that point, you two either fight over the box outside or someone’s a sore loser.”

* * *

“Still can’t believe you almost got us kicked out of the place,” Bobbi muttered some twenty minutes later, when the both of them were leaning against her car. Both of their hands were still defiantly grasped on the box. “Abe’s a good guy. Doesn’t deserve your shenanigans.” 

“None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t insisted on holding onto the box,” Hunter reminded her, and not for the first time, Bobbi resisted the urge to punch him in his infuriatingly charming face. If this had been another world -- hell, another situation -- maybe they could’ve been sharing a beer somewhere, or using the back of the truck for decidedly different reasons. 

But no. One of the first men Bobbi would even  _ consider  _ dating in the course of her college career, and he had to be connected to the only thing she needed at the current moment than a boyfriend or a perfect GPA. (See, if Daisy didn’t get her Lucky Charms, there was a good chance she’d move out. And Bobbi and Jemma  _ needed  _ that third person to pay the rent.) 

“You could’ve just as easily let go of the box,” she pointed out. Sighing, she stared up at the night sky, watching her frosted breath swirl in the wind. “Besides, you don’t even know if this box has the last charm your friend needs.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow at her. An infuriatingly charming eyebrow it was. “Could say the same thing for you. Besides, she promised me that if I got her this box, she’d never ask me for another one again.”

Bobbi snorted. “Seen that one before. How many boxes do you have?” 

He shuddered as if he’d just seen a giant Lucky Charm marshmallow materialize in front of him. “Nineteen. Been buying out the boxes for her as a surprise, though.” Groaning, he switched hands and tried to squeeze the one that’d been holding the box back to life. “It’s bloody  _ cold  _ out here, I don’t know how you New Englanders do it.” 

“Aww, your poor little English sensitivities can’t handle it?” she teased, although inside, she was secretly considering forfeiting just so she could get out of this goddamned weather. She’d dressed for a quick run to the grocery store. Not for a -- how long had this been going for? -- a half-hour long standoff in the parking lot of said grocery store. Hence, the freezing in a pair of Uggs, yoga pants and a BU sweatshirt. 

The only thing that kept her going was the fact that Hunter seemed to be taking it worse than she was. At least she’d thought to wear warm shoes -- she didn’t want to find out if his toes were slowly becoming frostbitten inside of his Adidas sneakers. (Well, his suffering and the fact that she was currently equipped with enough decaf K-cups to make Daisy regret asking her for anything for a long, long time.) 

“You New Englanders are another breed,” Hunter huffed. “I’m learning that much, at least. What  _ is  _ it with you people and sports?” 

“Sports are important to us,” Bobbi defended. “Big Papi and TB12 and all that.” 

“No, sports are important to the  _ English _ ,” Hunter said. “We get more jazzed about football than Americans do about summer barbecues. Croquet was a thing once upon a time. Don’t even get me started on how we feel about equestrianism. You lot are  _ feral _ .” 

“Says the Englishman who refuses to let go of a box of cereal,” 

“Coming from the New Englander who’s also holding onto that box.” Another shiver wracked Hunter’s body, and Bobbi frowned. “Can we at least get into the car so we can turn the heat on?” 

She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t thought of this earlier. Probably her pride standing in the way. Nodding, Bobbi whipped out her keys and unlocked the back door, letting Hunter slide in before following. “Sorry about the mess,” she grimaced when she was greeted with the numerous water bottles and Dunkin’ Donuts bags. “I wasn’t expecting to have a standoff with anyone anytime soon.” Had she known said standoff would be with a man this caliber of attractive, she probably would’ve deep cleaned her car before heading out. 

“Not a bother, Bob,” he quipped, and she was struck with the familiarity in which the nickname rolled off of her back while she started the car, turning on the heat. Both of them were instantly greeted with a whoosh of warm air, making them sigh in unison before laughing at the other. “Yeah, this was one of our better ideas.” 

“Ours?” Bobbi joked back, settling into her seat. “Surprised you didn’t take the credit yourself.” 

“What can I say?” he winked at her, and for a second, she could swear her heart skipped a beat. It was just barely overridden by Jemma’s insistent voice in her head that hearts couldn’t skip a beat -- just barely. “Figure if I can try to keep buttering you up, I can leave with this box.” 

“Not gonna work,” she confirmed. “I’m in for the long run.” Hunter sighed, although with significantly less vitriol than before. 

“Well, if you’re in for the long run and I’m in for the long run, I’d say we get to know each other a little better, don’t you?”

* * *

“What is the worst show you’ll admit to binge-watching?” 

The flush was apparent on Hunter’s cheeks before he could stop it, and Bobbi grinned widely, anticipating a juicy answer to come. “ _ Love Is Blind _ ,” he started; when all she could do was stare at him, he nearly let go of the box to explain himself. “It’s a fascinating human experiment,” he reasoned, to which Bobbi nodded. She could, at the very least, agree with that much. “Is love really blind? Can we fall in love with people when we don’t even know what they look like?”

She’d wondered the same thing herself time and again: if looks were taken out of the equation, how would she fare on a date with someone? Would she even fare at all? 

“Utter trash, though,” Hunter continued. “One of the women fed her dog wine. Two of them women were drooling over this prick of a frat boy. And  _ one of them was wine dog lady.”  _

“Who feeds their dog wine?” Bobbi wondered out loud. 

“People who ask for the manager before there’s a problem,” he answered, and the snort that erupted from Bobbi’s nose had the corners of his mouth pulling up into a smile. “What about you, Bob? What’s your guilty pleasure?” 

“Oh, I love  _ Dynasty, _ ” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s  _ so  _ outrageous. The daughter trying to oust the stepmom  _ and  _ her dad? A dead contractor happening to be the stepmom’s ex-lover? The stepmom’s nephew having a tryst with the daughter’s brother? Deadass all within the first episode. Could  _ never  _ happen.  _ Such  _ dramatic trash. I love it.” 

“Oh, I know that one,” Hunter snorted. “My ex used to watch that show all the time. I’d go for Fallon Carrington, no question.” 

“A brunette man,” Bobbi said airily, ears perked for the response. “I see how it is.” 

“You’d think,” Hunter agreed in an easy tone, though his eyes turned to Bobbi when he said it. “And yet, in this exact moment, I think I’m more attracted to blondes.” The admission hung in the air, blue meeting brown as the moment stretched on. 

“Blondes, huh?” Bobbi murmured, leaning in. Unconsciously, he did the same. “Any in particular catching your eye at the moment?” 

“I’d love to point her out to you, but she’s currently in a battle for a cereal box with an Englishman,” he answered, their faces so close the answer was almost a whisper. “And I really hope she’s not about to kiss him just for the win.” 

Unfortunately, neither of them found out. 

_ Ding! Clackityclack!  _

“Oh, shit, that’s --” “Sorry, I’d better --” In their haste to check their phones, neither of them noticed that they’d let go of the box some time ago. “It’s my friend Daisy --” “It’s my roommate Daisy --”

Both of them stared at each other in horror as the truth dawned on them. “All this time we spent fighting over the box of cereal, and it was for the  _ same damn person _ ?” Bobbi asked. “Wait, wait, hold on,” she said as Hunter just nodded. “Your friend is named Daisy Johnson.” 

He swallowed, somehow finding his voice. “And your roommate is Daisy Johnson.” Bobbi nodded. “Well, I -- I’m at a complete loss for words.” 

“I’m not,” Bobbi muttered. “I’m  _ so  _ changing her K-cups to decaf.” Sighing, she closed her eyes. Going to bed sounded fantastic right about now. “You know what? I know what we’re gonna do.” She motioned for Hunter to get into the front seat before relocating to the driver’s herself. “I have two more questions for you, Hunter.” 

“Anything,” he answered with the same eyebrow raise they’d started the night with, only this time, she saw it as a gentle teasing challenge rather than an infuriating obstacle. 

“What’s your favorite type of milk?” 

“Chocolate” was the automatic answer, this time confused. “But Bob, what’s this got to do with anything?” 

“Do you trust me?” 

Hunter sighed and hugged the box of cereal to himself. “Do I have a choice?”

* * *

‘Trust’ turned out to be Bobbi pulling into the nearest Cumberland Farms with a grin before purchasing half a gallon of chocolate milk, some bowls and some spoons before driving them over to the ‘BU Beach’. 

“Back out in the cold?” Hunter complained when she pulled into the parking lot. “Haven’t we had enough cold already?” 

“Shush and just hold the chocolate milk,” she said, fishing around in her dashboard compartment before pulling out a key with a tiny ‘a-ha!’. “I’m on the eboard of the BU Flora Association,” she explained as they got out of the car. “This is the closest parking lot to the greenhouse. Sometimes I have to go in and water the bonsai trees.” When Hunter’s gobsmacked look continued, she flushed. “Pre-law and botany nerd,” she muttered. “Sue me.” 

“Attractive  _ and  _ intelligent,” Hunter said. “I like that in a girl.” 

The flush only grew. “You know, you don’t have to butter me up for the box anymore,” she said as they meandered down the path past several groups of drunk underclassmen. “We’ve already established that Daisy’s getting nothing but decaf K-cups.” 

“Maybe I’m trying to butter you up for a different reason,”

Biting her upper lip, Bobbi let the door to the greenhouse swing open before stepping back to let Hunter enter first. “Then save it for when you’re sweet talking me over marshmallows.” Grinning, she handed him a headlight and stepped into the humid air. “Come on, this way. There’s a bridge in the middle that we can sit on.” 

Together, they made their way to the bridge, sitting cross-legged on the moist wood. “Come here often?” Hunter asked jokingly, pouring the chocolate milk with a heavy hand. 

“If the apartment gets too much,” Bobbi admitted, leaning her back against the railing. Thanks to the headlights, there wasn’t much she could make out -- the outlines of Hunter’s face, sure, but also the slightest glean of the waterfall she knew was some ways behind them. “You of all people would know Daisy can be a lot sometimes.” 

Hunter chuckled as he liberally added cereal to his bowl. Bobbi ignored, for the time being, that he’d put the milk before the cereal. After all, Jemma did the same thing. Maybe it was an English thing. “Don’t I know it. She and Lincoln together are a force.” He gave her an appraising look, their positions mirroring each other as he leaned against the other railing. “So, Morse, what’re the odds we might find the last charm in the box?” 

“I thought you said you bought a bunch of other boxes,” Bobbi pointed out, slurping up a spoonful of milk. “Wouldn’t it be more likely for you to find it in the other boxes?” Maybe it was better they were doing this in the dark, she mused. Then he couldn’t see her slurping up chocolate milk like a five-year-old. “Wait, shit, hold on.” There, just untouched by milk, was a golden unicorn -- the right down to the pink sparkle on it, just like Daisy had been describing it for the last three weeks. “Hunter, I found it.  _ I found it. _ ” 

“Shut up,” His bowl of cereal was immediately abandoned for a closer look at hers; their foreheads touched in his haste to see, but neither of them noticed. “We found it!” Gently, he scooped it out of her bowl and transferred it to a dry one like a father moving his newborn child. “Bob, we found it!” He held out his hand for a high-five, and all she could do was return it, the disbelief rising in her that Daisy had actually been right to send her to the grocery store. Their specific Stop & Shop, at  _ that  _ exact time. Had one thing been off, and she might’ve missed meeting Hunter entirely. 

“Pretty damn lucky,” she echoed with a chuckle. “I almost can’t believe it.” This hadn’t been how she’d expected her night to go. Get home from the grocery store, maybe, deal with a saddened Daisy when she dug into the box to find no golden unicorn, study a little bit for tomorrow’s classes, go to bed. Instead, she was in the middle of her favorite greenhouse in the middle of the night with a man she’d barely met, eating out of a box of Lucky Charms they’d spent a half-hour fighting over. 

When Daisy found out that they’d met over a box of Lucky Charms, she was going to lose her  _ shit _ . Speaking of which... “Which one of us is gonna break the good news to her?” 

The return of the infamous eyebrow. “I was thinking both of us would,” Hunter lifted his eyes to hers. “And then I was thinking we could talk about doing this again.” Bobbi raised an eyebrow to match his, and he gave her a crooked grin. “Maybe in a way that doesn’t involve fighting over a box of cereal for thirty minutes.” 

“I’m pretty fond of that pho place over on Huntington,” she suggested. “See you next Tuesday at 7?” 

“Read my mind  _ and  _ steal the words out of my mouth,” he murmured. “How  _ is  _ it that you’ve not been snapped up?” 

“Oh, the usual,” Bobbi joked, waving a hand. “Terrible kisser. Awful at spontaneity. Worst driver you’ve ever seen. Personally, I blame my passion for spicy food.” When she looked at Hunter, though, he wasn’t laughing along with her. 

“Don’t think I quite believe the kissing rumors,” he said, keeping his voice light. “I’m hoping you’ll let me find out for myself one day, though.” 

Bobbi raised her cereal bowl to his in a toast before leaning to kiss his cheek. At seeing his dumbstruck face, she let out a little giggle. “Gotta keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

* * *

CLUNK. 

For once, Bobbi detested the loud lock that announced her presence in the apartment. While it was useful to know when someone was coming home, its lack of subtlety was  _ not  _ what she’d been hoping for at the current moment. 

It wouldn’t have mattered anyways, for as soon as she swung open the door, a desk chair spotlighted by their living room lamp spun around to reveal Daisy, an unimpressed look on her face. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Barbara Morse, sneaking back late on what was _supposed_ to be a fifteen-minute cereal run.” 

So far, so good, Bobbi reminded herself. She’d expected Daisy’s dramatics, and frankly, they were pretty warranted, as she was returning two hours late of what was supposed to have been a quick cereal run. “I got caught up,” she offered simply. “Someone else was after your box of cereal, and I had to fight them off.” 

“Oh, damn,” Daisy said. “But that  _ still  _ doesn’t explain why you were gone for like, two hours.” Her face scrunched in confusion. “Unless you fought someone off for two hours. Please don’t tell me you did that. The trip isn’t worth  _ that  _ much.” 

“Technically, I fought for maybe a half hour,” Bobbi said. “But you know what I found really surprising, Dais?” 

“What’s that?” 

“You  _ know  _ the other person I fought.” Bobbi opened the door wider to reveal Hunter, who was holding the bowl containing the precious golden unicorn. Oh, how she wished she had a camera at the moment. The flabbergasted look on Daisy’s face was priceless. “And he was kind enough to suggest that we put aside our differences and bond together to deliver you the lucky charm you’ve been working so hard to find.” 

“I...didn’t expect this at all,” Daisy said, the quirk of her mouth suggesting completely otherwise. “What are the odds that my two _very_ single friends are at the _same_ supermarket, at the _same_ time late at night, looking for the _same_ thing?” Bobbi and Hunter gaped her in unison for a good five seconds before Daisy gave up the act, letting out a loud cackle. “I’m just kidding. That was a complete coincidence.” When glares from the latter didn’t convince her, she continued. “Really! Lance and I were going to have lunch tomorrow, but I didn’t know _why_ he’d asked me --”

It was Bobbi’s turn to gape. “Lance? Really?” Out of all of the dorky names...

Hunter grimaced. “You see why I only tell the ladies my last name?” 

“Them, and his best friends...when he’s extremely inebriated during a freshman orientation session,” Daisy chimed in with a grin, before Bobbi could move to her next branch of thought. “We did not date. Don’t even worry about it. Anyways, I didn’t know why we were gonna have lunch tomorrow, let  _ alone  _ that he was trying to find me the last Lucky Charm. So I sent my bestest and favorite roommate to find it.”

Jemma poked her head out of her doorway, pouting. “I can still hear you, you know!” 

“Love, you, Jem.” Daisy clapped her hands and held them out for the bowl. “You will be appropriately compensated for the boxes of Lucky Charms I’m assuming you bought. Now, it’s late, and I don’t want either of you back out there. Hunter, you get the couch. Bob, if you’re gonna stay out here, keep it down and use protection.” 

“Wha --” “I would  _ never  _ \--” 

But Daisy was already bouncing back to her room, presumably to wake Lincoln with a piercing phone call. When the door slammed shut, Bobbi sighed, the gust of air tinged with both fondness and exasperation. “Let me get you a blanket before I head to bed.” 

“Want me to replace the K-cups with decaf?” 

The offer took Bobbi by surprise, and even in her rapidly-approaching sleepiness, she managed to chuckle. “Sure. I’ll let Jemma know.” Both of them set off to their tasks, Hunter humming softly to himself as he methodically replaced the precious canisters with their previously-bought decaf. The original cups, further concealed by having been packed into the decaf box, were placed on the highest shelf in the kitchen. 

Down the hall, Bobbi’s light but tired lilt reached his ears as she relayed the information to Jemma, the two of them sharing a laugh before she was rummaging through what he presumed was a hall closet. Both of them felt like they’d been stretched just beyond their energy limits for the day, weight settling comfortably into their shoulders and keeping them extra aware of the hour. 

“So, uh, turns out we’ve only got floral English garden blankets,” Bobbi’s voice came from behind him, and Hunter turned to see the entirety of the blonde’s upper body covered by what appeared to be a thick duvet. “I think Jemma’s mom sent this one over.” 

He chuckled. “British blanket for the Britishman, huh?” When Bobbi began to sputter, her words sparking bits of energy into the lethargic air, all he could do was chuckle and squeeze one of the hands that was clutching the down monstrosity. “I’m joking, Bob. It’s great. Honestly, I might steal it after I leave.” 

“You could,” Bobbi suggested as they meandered over to the couch. “Jemma’s mom sends a new one like, every two months. I think she keeps overestimating how cold it is here.” Both duvet and blanket were settled onto the couch, Hunter crawling under it with a surprisedly content sigh. “I’m glad we met tonight.” 

“I like to think we would’ve met eventually,” he countered easily. “If not through Dais, she probably would’ve set us up,” 

“God,” she laughed, and so did he, both of them shaking their heads at the idea before falling silent. “Goodnight, Hunter.” 

“Night, Bob,” Still, she stood there, a little squiggle in her head annoying her about a key piece missing in the night’s ending. If she didn’t do it now, the moment would reek of incompleteness, wouldn’t it? And why did that little squiggle sound like Daisy? Fuck it. “Bob?” 

She leaned down and kissed him lightly, the sparks that had flown in that brief contact tugging at the right side of her lips. Pulling up, she grinned at the dazed look on Hunter’s face. “Told you I had to keep you on your toes, didn’t I?” 

“That you did,” he agreed easily. “See you in the morning, Bob.” 

_ Now  _ the night was complete. “See you in the morning...Lance.” On her way back down the hallway, the stack of cereal boxes caught Bobbi’s eye, and she had to stifle one last laugh. 

Who knew a lucky cereal would’ve  _ actually  _ been lucky? 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [@typosandteabags](typosandteabags.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you ever want to stop by and scream at me
> 
> Also I wrote this before Tom Brady got traded to Tampa Bay and now I'm mad


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